


Promises, Promises

by EstherRuth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode AU: s08e04 The Last of the Starks, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, For Sansa anyway, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Political Jon Snow, R Plus L Equals J, Romance, alternate parentage reveal, not Dany friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25022119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EstherRuth/pseuds/EstherRuth
Summary: “Is this the secret you wanted to tell us, Jon?” she asked, studying him.Jon felt weary on his feet. “No,” he said. “Sansa, I need you to hear this.” She hadn’t sworn to keep it a secret, but he couldn’t leave it be.Sansa looked at him, a fear in her deep blue eyes, and shook her head. “I’m not sure I want to know, Jon.”“Gods damn it, Sansa, I need you to know!” Jon said, digging his hands into his eyes in frustration.Sansa looked at him, disconcerted. “What could possibly be so important—”“I’m not your brother!”---Overwhelmed Post-War for the Dawn, Sansa decides she'd rather not hear Jon's news if it's a big secret she'll have to keep. But Jon can't let it go for a very important reason.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 20
Kudos: 226





	Promises, Promises

**Author's Note:**

> I have stayed far away from late-show canon for probably obvious reasons, but this was an idea I had for a long time that I finally wrote down. Because asking someone to keep a big secret can be a lot in the wake of all the trauma these characters go through (looking at you, D).

“Because we’re family,” Jon said roughly as his eyes met hers pleadingly.

Sansa thought that she should be happy to hear such words from Jon. After everything from bending the knee and falling into bed with the Dragon Queen, disregarding all of Sansa’s advice and concerns. After Jon distanced himself not only from her, but from Bran and even Arya, who (Sansa did not kid herself) was his favorite sister. Everything since his return, Daenerys’s threats in the Great Hall ( _whatever they want_ ). Jon taking her side in that council meeting just before, completely dismissing Sansa’s concern for their armies—as if he no longer cared about their people if it interfered with the Dragon Queen’s desperate need for her Throne. And had he missed the way Daenerys had threatened Sansa in that meeting? Had he believed she only meant Cersei when she spoke of the enemies she couldn’t ignore?

When Sansa thought of all of it—how Jon had seemed to abandon them, only now to say they’re family? She couldn’t feel happy or relieved by his words. She merely felt angry. Sansa found herself trembling as he awaited her answer.

“Sansa?” Jon said, clearly expecting it. Expecting her to make a promise blindly. Expecting her to trust him. And she did. Or she _had._ Sansa wasn’t sure anymore what to believe. Jon was so different from who he’d been before he left for Dragonstone. Did it really only take falling in love with the beautiful Dragon Queen for him to become completely inscrutable to her? Sansa tried to ignore the pinprick in her heart—knowing full well it shouldn’t be there.

She breathed to calm herself. “You’re right, Jon. We’re family,” she forced her voice steady. Jon had a flash of relief in his eyes before his brows furrowed as she did not make the pledge he’d been hoping for. “I am exhausted. I know we all are. Our armies are,” she couldn’t help the edge to her tone, “and I must work now as you and our armies head south to begin making repairs, helping the injured, mourning our dead, and trying to keep morale while many of our people will watch their families heading off to war again. Frankly, I don’t believe I have the fortitude at the moment to make another promise and keep another secret.”

Jon’s face was agonized, pulling into a deeper frown with every word Sansa spoke. Guilt and shame twisted inside her. “I am sorry, Jon.” Somehow, she truly was. At the same time, she wanted to rage and scream at him for making her feel all these things, for treating her poorly and giving up the North and still— _still—_ she felt guilty for hurting him now. “I will go,” she said quietly, looking over to Bran, face placid as always, and Arya, who looked a strange combination of concerned, confused, and perhaps angry. “You can all discuss it among yourselves.”

Sansa dismissed herself, making her way out of the Godswood, willing back the flurry of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, feeling more alone than she ever had since reuniting with Jon at Castle Black. Perhaps it would be easier this way. Sansa resolved to put this behind her and be strong for the North, when she heard Jon’s footfalls trailing behind her.

“Sansa, wait.”

\---

Jon called after her as she made her way across the courtyard and he followed. He was trying not to make a spectacle of them, barely refraining from chasing after her.

He had to talk to her. Didn’t she see that?

He knew she was angry with him. He knew that she wasn’t placing as much faith in him as he wanted and hoped for. Jon knew in some ways it made sense, but he couldn’t help but resent it a little too. Didn’t she understand? That he had done everything for the North, for _her_? Jon had to protect her above everything else, and he knew they were playing an incredibly dangerous game now. He hated knowing he’d brought that danger to their doorstep, but what choice did he have?

Jon followed Sansa to her solar and she whipped around to face him. “Jon, I really can’t do this—”

“You need to listen to me,” Jon said urgently. Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him. By the Gods, why did she have to look at him like that? It was like she could see clear through him. But Sansa must not see as clearly as it seemed. If she did, how could she believe he loved the Dragon Queen when he really loved—

“I just told you, I do not think I can make another promise. Keep another secret.”

“Sansa,” Jon breathed out, reaching for her, only for her to back away from his touch. It hurt to see her recoil from him, like a punch to his gut.

“What more do you want from me Jon?” Sansa asked. She looked bereft and it stole the air from his lungs. How greedy he felt in that moment.

What did he want from her? He wanted _everything._ Jon wanted her by his side always, in his bed, to bear his children, to grow old together, he wanted her to love him as he so deeply loved her. Not as a brother. And he was not her brother, and somehow, no matter how grievous everything else about this revelation was, it could give him this. If she wanted it too.

If she knew what he knew.

But Daenerys had commanded his silence. Jon had been doing everything he could to appease her—but on this he couldn’t. And to swear Sansa to secrecy meant they could never truly be together, and yet, he still burned to tell her. He needed her to know how he felt, and that he wasn’t her brother and see if maybe, just maybe, she might feel the same relief that he did.

“I need you to hear me, I need you to hear what I have to say,” Jon said. Would she be willing to love him in secret? No, he could never ask that of her. Sansa deserved better than for them to live their lives in secret. Jon realized that, in all truth, was what Daenerys demanded of him—this secret held inside him for the rest of his life. He wasn’t sure he could do it. She was a selfish woman, Jon knew, but even he was surprised by her attempt to command him thus.

“I’m not making you any promises Jon,” she said, and though her voice was steel her eyes shone with pain as she turned away from him. “Not after you broke your promises to me.”

It takes a moment to wash over him—Sansa’s words. _“What?”_ he asked in disbelief.

Sansa turned toward him again. “You promised to protect me! We took back the North together! And you gave it away to _her._ ”

“I have protected you!” Jon snapped. “What in the Seven Hells do you think this is, Sansa?!”

She glared at him, stepping closer. It was always like this when they argued, they were pulled together like some magnetic force—even when they ran each other to wits’ end—they moved closer. “I think you gave the North away because of a beautiful woman. I think you let _your Queen_ come here and threaten the North—”

“You realize we’d all be dead without her?” Jon asked. What choice did he have, how could he not have done anything to protect the North, to protect Sansa?

“I don’t know that and neither do you, Jon,” she said without missing a beat. “Arya was the one who killed the Night King and Daenerys gave him a dragon! And you let her threaten the North, threaten _me,_ ” Sansa said, fuming. “Or did you not notice those oh so subtle threats about enemies in that council meeting?”

“Of course I noticed them Sansa!” Jon breathed in exasperation. “Why do you think I cut you off like that, huh? Why do you think I agreed we’d do whatever she commanded?”

“They’re our fighters, Jon, they’re not ready,” Sansa pleaded.

“If it gets her away from the North, away from _you,_ then it is worth it,” he said sharply.

Sansa looked at him in horror and shock. “How could you love a woman like that, Jon?”

“I don’t! Is that not clear to you by now?” Jon barely contained himself from shouting, knowing he didn’t want others to possibly hear. “I don’t love her. I never did.” He was moving closer to her, their chests nearly touching. Gods, did he want to touch her. “I did what I had to do.”

Sansa stared at him for a moment, relief in her features. Jon didn’t know if that should give him hope though. It may only be the relief that he had not fallen for a tyrant with a pretty face. “But when I asked you, you never answered,” she said flatly.

Jon sighed, closing his eyes briefly. “I was afraid if I told you everything then, I’d only be putting you in more danger.”

“Is this the secret you wanted to tell us, Jon?” she asked, studying him.

Jon felt weary on his feet. “No,” he said. “Sansa, I need you to hear this.” She hadn’t sworn to keep it a secret, but he couldn’t leave it be.

Sansa looked at him, a fear in her deep blue eyes, and shook her head. “I’m not sure I want to know, Jon.”

“Gods damn it, Sansa, I _need_ you to know!” Jon said, digging his hands into his eyes in frustration.

Sansa looked at him, disconcerted. “What could possibly be so important—”

“I’m not your brother!”

\---

Sansa straightened, her hands falling to her sides limply. “What?” she asked, confused and frustrated and undone.

Jon ran a hand down his face, gathering himself. He was shaking, Sansa noticed. Her heart thundered. “I’m not your brother,” he said again, eyes heated with something she was afraid to examine.

“I don’t understand,” she said weakly.

Jon sighed, bringing a hand to her elbow and drawing her closer. “Lyanna Stark was my mother. Rhaegar Targaryen was my true father.”

Sansa gasped. “Jon—”

“And it gets better, or worse. They married, I’m not a bastard.”

_Not her brother. Not her brother. Not her brother._

It danced in her head, a feeling within her stomach akin to fluttering. She bit her lip to keep from smiling. This had to be hard for Jon, she couldn’t make this about her and her feelings, even if they no longer seemed so twisted. “Jon—I…are you sure?”

Jon’s eyes flit between hers, and she could have sworn his gaze dropped to her mouth for a moment. “Aye, I’m sure.”

It all made sense in a way, Sansa thought. She knew Jon was right as well as she knew he was standing right in front of her. He was not her brother. “Are you alright?” she asked nervously.

Jon chuckled darkly. His hand was still warm on her elbow, keeping them close. “I just found out my entire life was a lie, but other than that…actually, I also have to fight a war for a woman I despise who turns out to be my _aunt_ ,” he said with a grimace.

“Jon, you can’t—you’re the trueborn son of Rhaegar—your claim supersedes hers,” Sansa pointed out. She knew Jon had no desire to sit the Iron Throne, but at the very least this gave him leverage.

“I won’t be ruling the Seven Kingdoms,” Jon said plainly.

“Jon if you know what she is how can you help her take the Throne? And if she finds out about your parentage you will be in serious danger.” Sansa couldn’t bear to think of it.

Jon inhaled sharply and she understood.

“She already knows,” Sansa said. Jon nodded. “You told her?! Before you told us? This—this is why you were trying to swear us to secrecy,” she said in disbelief. Sansa tried to take a step away from him—but he held onto her, pulled her back so she would listen.

“If I hadn’t told her, Sansa, she might have found out another way and that would have been too dangerous.”

“So what now, then, Jon? Do you think you’ll be safe? You’ll always be a threat to her. You’ll still help put her on the Throne?”

“I promised her, Sansa. I cannot go back on my word,” he said firmly.

“Did you promise to keep it a secret?” she asked, knowing she was on a dangerous path, but they had little choice now.

“Sansa,” Jon said warningly.

“Did you?”

“No.” Jon cut her off before she could respond. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to make a claim.”

“Are you going to keep it a secret?” she asked. “From everyone? For how long? For the rest of your life?”

“I don’t know, Sansa,” Jon said, frustrated again by her. “This isn’t what I wanted!” He exclaimed, looking strangely dejected at her.

“Then why did you tell me, Jon? I didn’t swear it, and you didn’t promise her, yet you still told me. You don’t want to do anything about it, but you still told me.”

The heat flickered back in his eyes. “I did,” Jon said thickly.

It surely could not be what she was thinking, could it? But he doesn’t love the Dragon Queen. He said he despised her, even. Sansa couldn’t bear the not knowing, she breathed deeply. “Why did you tell me, Jon?” she asked again.

Jon moved closer to her, impossibly close. He ran a hand through her hair. Sansa could hardly breathe or think. He looked at her steadily. “I told you because I’m not your brother,” Jon said in a low voice, before bringing his lips to hers. In that moment, questions of right or wrong—questions of whether he felt the same—all dissipated to nothing.

\---

It was better than Jon imagined in his many shameful, feverish fantasies: kissing Sansa. Her plush lips parting beneath his own, her velvet tongue caressing his, Jon groaned as one hand wrapped around her waist and clutched her to him.

It wasn’t just him.

Sansa responded at the first gentle brush of his lips to her own, their kiss intensified with each second and now her hands dug into his hair. She was divine. It was a revelation. Never had he had a kiss like this. All the pieces of Jon which shattered seemed to put themselves back into place. And it wasn’t just the kiss, Jon knew. It was Sansa. With Sansa, he was whole. Jon brought his arms all the way around her, pulling her so close he partly lifted her off her feet.

“Sansa,” he whispered, kissing along her jaw and neck. “Sansa, you’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

Jon felt her giggle, stirring him further. He looked at her and she smiled shyly. “I might have some idea,” she said.

Jon set her gently back to her feet, but he kept his arms around her as her own wrapped behind his neck. He didn’t want to ever let her go, leaning his forehead to hers and breathing her air. “Sansa, I love you. Not like a brother. I love you so much.” He brushed her jaw with his thumb.

_Sweet freedom_ , he thought.

Tears gathered in Sansa’s eyes and his own. “I love you too, Jon, so much,” she said with a giddy laugh. Jon smiled. He wanted to always see her like this. Happy. He kissed her again.

“Gods how I love you,” Jon whispered. It felt so good to say. Sansa held onto him and they swayed silently for a few moments.

“Jon,” she said his name softly. Reverently. It had never sounded so good to his ears than coming from her lips. “What will we do?” Sansa asked, staring up at him. There was not only love there, but trust. He’d nearly broken it, but miraculously he hadn’t.

“I’m not sure,” Jon sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything from the beginning, when I first returned.”

Sansa shook her head resolutely. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“I want to marry you,” he confided. “I want to wed you and bed you and make babes with you,” Jon said with a grin.

“I want that too,” she said, looking up at him through her lashes. “Very much. But you know what it would mean, Jon,” Sansa finished, her face growing more serious.

He nods. “We cannot keep it a secret.”

“You are willing to do that? Before you were ready to keep it a secret,” Sansa said, looking at him uncertainly.

Jon brought his lips to her forehead in a kiss like that day on the battlements. Then he did what he had so wished to do then—he kissed her lips next, soft and sweet. “Now that I know you feel the same, nothing could stop me Sansa.”

She smiled. “I am glad I didn’t make that promise, then.”

Jon laughed. “I am glad too.” He looked at the woman in his arms that he loved more than his own life and Jon knew he would do anything to ensure he and Sansa could have a future together. “But I do think we should make a different promise to each other now,” he said.

Sansa looked at him, tilting her head. “And what promise is that?”

“We promise that whatever comes next—whatever we need to do to be as together as we wish—we figure it out together.” Jon reached for her hand, and he already had his answer as she clasped it in his, intertwining their fingers. Sansa leaned in and kissed him again.

_“Together.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
